The Last Auror
by LOTRandHPnut
Summary: Twins Ralph and Simon Wesley never known their father. Ginny prefered not to talk about it. She simply said he was a very bad man, and abandoned the subject. He was Draco Malfoy.


The Last Auror-Ginny's Folly

"Meet mum and dad," muttered Harry, his lips curling into a sheepish smile. Ginny met his gaze, staring into those lank emerald eyes shadowed by violet rings. He looked wan and even thinner in the pallid light, his raven hair jutting out every direction in the wintry breeze. She squeezed his hand tighter as his fingers intertwined with hers. Shriveled leaves in hues of fire clung to their silvery branches, overlooking the browning stems of dying grass. In evenly spaced rows, clusters of polished granite gleamed in the cloudy light, their inscriptions distorted in its reflection.

Ginny stepped closer to the monument, the leaves emitting a sharp crunch in indignation as they felt their frail bodies being crushed. "I don't know what to say, to tell you the truth," she confessed.

"Maybe nice to meet you, for starters?" he prompted, bemused.

"Okay, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. How's death?"

"I asked them that before." His voice grew faint, almost sentimental as he looked wistfully into the distance.

"I wish I could talk to them in person, know their facial expressions and how they act. It feels more than a bit awkward talking to a gravestone."

"Yeah, but for some reason I just….am able to think of them as if they're actually there, talking to me. Must be a family thing."

Ginny nodded, placidly smiling at the gravestone in front of her. The place felt so peaceful yet unnerving, for ominous mortality was etched into every shriveled leaf and stooping oak tree. Surprisingly, Lily and James's grave was fairly simple, with no carvings engraved into the seamless stone. A simple message written in blunt uppercase letters ran the length of the grave, the generic message reading: 'A tribute to Lily and James, accomplished Aurors and parents of the Boy Who Lived. They are sorely missed by all who knew them.'

"Rather anti-climactic," commented Ginny. Harry nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You're looking thin."

"Just been nervous. I'm kind of wishing I had someone - someone wise to give me advice. I don't know what to do."

"I wish I knew, but I don't. I could say something cliché, like follow your heart. I've also got a pack of half-eaten Fizzing Whizbees in my pocket. Might clear up the thin problem."

Harry chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a latent mirth. "I'll pass."

For a moment they regarded the gravestone in somber silence. Harry approached Ginny, fumbling with something in his pocket. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" She turned her head, a lock of hair blowing in her face. Harry extended his hand, a locket resting on his palm, pale gold in the ashen light. Flecks of rust caked its tarnished surface, a spidery "S" entwined with a serpent was stamped in the locket's center. She looked at it, mesmerized by the trinket draping off his palm. She traced the intricate emblem with her finger. Its outline was sharp and clear.

"Can I open it?"

Harry averted her eyes, looking at the ground. "Sure, but I don't think you can get it open. I tried for ages, but it wouldn't budge."

"You just have weak fingers, Harry," teased Ginny. Delicately taking the locket, she squeezed her fingernails in the space between the clasp in an attempt to pry it open. The metal was rough from age and her skin burned as the abrasive clasp dug into her fingertips. "I give up."

Harry smiled, his nose turned up in a look of mock smugness. "I can't decide if you're acting more Draco or Hermioneish."

Harry gently took the locket from her outstretched hand and fastened it around her neck; the chain was cold and smooth like snake scales. A tingly sensation crawled through her spine as the metal's frigidness rubbed against her skin, prompting goose bumps. Ginny looked fleetingly at the tombstone, the oval shaped locket dangling precariously off the flimsy chain. Something about it unnerved her.

"Curious little thing," murmured Ginny, holding it up in the pale light. "Where did you get it?"

"Dumbledore gave it to me," Harry replied matter-of-factly. Yet Ginny still detected a slight hesitance in his words confounded by their sheen of self-assurance. But her mind dismissed all lingering doubts when he mentioned the former headmaster's name. She wondered how Harry would survive without him.

"He was a great headmaster, if not the best."

"Yeah. I don't know how we'll manage without him," commented Harry, his voice marginally lower. His cloudy eyes looked absently ahead, portraying neither grief nor indifference.

"Thanks for the locket," Ginny said, planting a kiss on his cheek. He blushed slightly but some tenacious thought kept him distant.

"I wanted you to have it," he murmured. They stayed silent for a few moments, each preoccupied in their own thoughts.

"Harry….I-I want you to enjoy life, to not be so preoccupied with what you have to do. Sort of just live for the moment."

"I should, but…" He ran his hand though his hair anxiously. "If you died, if you were killed, I could never forgive myself." She looked into his tired eyes, her freckles reflecting off them, the severity of his words hesitating to sink in. Her mind went blank in a hazy rush of emotion.

"Don't worry so much. Besides, Tonks and the rest of the lot put up a bunch of wards. We'll be fine."

He hugged her, the emotion pent up within him released. She could hear his shallow breaths as he held her. Some nagging presentiment told her this wouldn't last much longer. She blocked the thoughts from her mind, seeking the comfort and reassurance he provided, but he was equally lost. Pangs of euphoria and fear collided within such a beautifully terrible moment.

"Where's Hermione and Ron?" asked Ginny. His eyes darted from tombstone to tombstone, twinkling with an alarmed glimmer. "Harry?"

"Dunno," he replied, his voice assuming an unsettling new urgency. He looked directly at her. She saw fear in his eyes.

An airy warm breeze meandered through the branches, shaking limbs and blowing leaves. She looked about in bewilderment as branches clashed into each other, their leaves swirling around them. Her ears filled with a rush of their murmurs and pettish creaking as trees struggled to support their weight.

"HARRY!!!!" A voice echoed in the in the distance, ebbing away into the roar of the leaves.

"HARRY!!!"

"RON?! WHERE ARE YOU?"

"WHA!" the T was drowned out by the noise.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" bellowed Harry frantically eyeing the wildly tossing branches.

"Over here!" came his painfully vague reply, his voice hoarse and faint.

"WHERE?"

"I'm right behind you."

Harry spun around. "Ron where were you? Where's Hermione?"

"Gone."

"What do you mean she's gone? Did the Death Eaters take her? How did they break thru the wards?" demanded Harry, grasping Ron on the shoulders. Ron stayed quiet, his face unnaturally stoic.

"Hermione's dead," mumbled Ron, the words coming out in horrible gasp as he tried to conceal the lump in his throat.

"What?" asked Harry incredulously, his voice barely audible.

"She was -" Ron rifled though his mind for the words, his cloudy eyes growing glassy with accumulating tears. "Murdered."

The bite of the words refused to sink in. Ginny looked at Ron perplexedly, the words jumbling together in her brain. Denial assuaged the pain of the words but it wouldn't always be there to comfort her. She frantically scanned Ron for a hint of a lie, checking for fidgeting of his hands or a false tone in his voice. Her conscience let loose a barrage of scorn at the very idea, silencing any suspicion. How could Ron lie to them?

"Ron, I'm -" Ginny halted mid-sentence as her brother's eyes glistened with tears. Ron averted their glance, turning his head towards the oak tree towering overhead. He leaned against its base, pressing his forehead against the tree's jagged ridges.

Dead.

The painful word immersed her mind in confusion about where she was or what was intended for the three of them, stupidly waiting there. Blurred images of the graveyard danced before her, Ginny's skin hot and flushed as her brain screamed in indignation about being kept in the dark. The wind seemed to howl less harshly as her flurried thoughts dulled her senses, like laudanum masking pain.

"_Incarcerous!_" A wad of thick cords wound themselves around Harry, his body toppling to the ground. Ginny wheeled around and saw her brother's wand hovering millimeters from Harry's neck.

"Ron what the bloody hell are you doing?" demanded Harry irately, squirming under Ron's foot. Ron looked at him, his gaze cold and detached as he mouthed "_Silencio,_" silencing Harry's shouting. Ginny's eyes grew wide, the back of her throat throbbing as she tried to puzzle out the scene in front of her. Shakily she brought the wand up to arm level feeling a hot rush of panic.

A terrible thought flickered through Ginny's mind. What if Ron wasn't acting on his own will, but someone else's, and was coerced into killing Hermione? Ginny berated herself for being so stupid, the whole revelation was common sense. Without thinking, she murmured "_Stupefy_" and a crimson beam of light emanated from her wand. Ron swayed to the side, his wand spewing out an effulgent shower of sparks as she darted behind a gravestone. His eyes spoke to her but she couldn't discern their meaning.

"Let him go Ron!" commanded Ginny, her wand trembling. Ron's eyes narrowed. "I said let him go!" ordered Ginny more forcefully, but Ron refused to move, imbedding the wand further into Harry's skin. Harry shut his eyes in concentration, the summoning spell formulating on his lips.

"_Accio wand!_" proclaimed Ron. The sleek, smooth stick sailed through the air, indecisively wavering between Ron and Harry.

"_Expelliarmus!_" bellowed Ginny. Gliding across an arch of air, the projectile flew in the direction of her hand, only to abruptly divert from its path, and sail into Ron's hand. A look of horror spread across her countenance as she realized that she failed him. An upwelling of self-loathing permeated her thoughts. Because of her hesitance, her slow wits, and innate trust of others, Harry would pay the price.

Her breathing came in slow, shallow gasps. She felt her feet drag upon the grass as each limb became more cumbersome, as if weights were suspended from each arm. The ground reeled beneath her as attempted to place her panicked thoughts into some kind of order. "_Imped_ -"

As he uttered the spell, Ron's face met the ground. Seven bleary figures emerged out of the swirls of fog, their bone-pale masks gleaming in the ashen light, shrouded by drapes of black like the moon obscured by cloud. Harry's eyes seared through her, pleading and uncritical of her selfish instinct to survive. His fervent voice rang through her head, urging her to hide. She hated his compassion more than a reproachful glance.

A ray of emerald light shot past her shoulder, shattering a tombstone into a million pieces. "_Protego,_" she murmured, painfully aware of the Death Eaters' intents. More beams darted past her, almost scraping the top of her head. She dashed manically through the tombstones, driven forward by the selfish instinct of survival. Darting behind an oak tree she glanced to the left, her shirt saturated with sweat. Looking beside her, she could barely pierce the dense sheets of fog which now swirled about the landscape. A sense of dread slithered through her, knowing Voldomort would utilize something much more powerful than a wand.

Any color remaining in Ginny's complexion had vanished a long time ago. Several mask-shaped skulls glowered down at Harry and Ron, the masks' protruding bones gleaming in the wan light. She could see how he struggled, his skin stinging as the cords gnawed away at his limbs. Her eyes frantically scanned for a gap in the cloaked mass but by now they arranged themselves into an impenetrable circle. The Death Eaters moved closer constricting the circle until only five feet separated them. No one spoke.

"Hopefully we've both learned something since then, Harry." Ginny found herself looking at two glowering red eyes, their needle thin pupils focused directly upon Harry. His cool, high voice sent shivers down her spine, smothering any hope that might have kindled within her.

Ginny scrunched lower against the yew tree, painfully aware of the adrenaline circulating in her veins. She fought to keep a rational enough mind to remain hidden, but her heart reminded her of her selfishness justified in Harry's request. Voldomort's voice echoed in her head, each word slow and lucid, relishing the end of the struggle. Harry's eyes burned a hole through her, knowing his love wasn't sufficient enough to save her from guilt.

"We've been greatly anticipating this," continued Voldomort, his wand loosely clasped in his pale hand.

"We?" asked Harry tentatively, his voice struggling not to quiver.

"You don't think I would be selfish enough to let my loyal followers miss the great battle of our time? I even ascertained that your little friends would be able to watch," said Voldomort genially, gesturing to the cloaked mass. Ginny covered her mouth to repress a sob.


End file.
